


The Monster of Winterfell

by mskullgirl



Series: Of Boars and Wolves [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Dubious Consent, M/M, Stockholm Syndrome, slight OCCness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-19
Updated: 2014-05-26
Packaged: 2018-01-25 19:39:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 6,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1660082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mskullgirl/pseuds/mskullgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ramsay is wounded during a hunt, unable to fend for himself. Reek sees his chance to escape. But can he abandon a man who, despite his cruelty, is the only person who cares about him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Hunt

             A blast of the horn and the hounds run off, the baying ringing through the air. Reek wants to cover his ears to block out the sound. The clatter of horses hooves, the shouts of men, his own heart pounding in his chest, it’s all too much. He had hoped against hope that Ramsay might have been in a generous mood and left him in the kennels during the hunt but, as usual, there was no such luck.

            “The bitch runs fast.” Ramsay mused, galloping close by Reek, making sure not to let him out of his sight. Not that Reek would run; they both knew there would be no point in it. Still, Ramsay liked to keep an eye on him.

            “Aye my lord.”

            “No matter, she won’t get far. Perhaps you’ll be the one to shoot her down.” Reek did not reply, knowing his lord didn’t really want a response.

            “I may even let you have a go at her before the dogs get her. Would you like that? To fuck a woman again?” A cruel laugh tore from the man’s throat. Kicking his horse he rode on a little ways ahead. Reek bowed his head, a horrible, sick feeling rising in his chest. He almost preferred a beating to Ramsay’s words. Almost.

            The rest of the party had split up; the only sign of them were the distant sounds of their laughter. Ramsay meanwhile, gestured for Reek to stop, and, bows in hand they continued on foot. Ramsay ran and Reek limped along, trying hard to keep up. He hoped for his own sake that the girl gave them a good chase. Ramsay liked it better when there was a challenge. Maybe if it went well Reek would get to eat the dinner scraps and even sleep beside the fire. He might even be allowed some wine. It could happen, it Ramsay was in an unusually good mood.

            A slight rustling noise draws Reek from his thoughts. When he turns in the direction it came from he finds himself face to face with an enormous boar. In his fear he comes to a sudden halt, eyes locked with the beast.

            “Come now Reek!” Ramsay snaps, slowing to glance back at his servant.

            _No!_ Reek thinks desperately, although the words die in his mouth. Unawares, Ramsay strides towards him, a murderous look on his face.

            “My lord stop!” Reek calls as the boar turns to face the larger man. Miraculously, Ramsay halts, head cocked to the side curiously. In that second the animal charges, tusks bared.

            “Ramsay!” Reek shouts, daring to use his lord’s first name in his desperation, but the boar has already collided with the dark haired man, knocking him to the ground. For a moment Reek is paralyzed, unable to do anything but watch as the massive beast rams its tusks into Ramsay’s side again and again. Finally, fumbling with the bow he looses an arrow, hitting the boar in the left shoulder. It isn’t enough to fell the creature but it is enough to scare it off. Reek braces himself for the blow he will doubtless receive for not acting sooner. He waits for Ramsay to stand; furious at the interruption of his hunt He waits yet the blow doesn’t come.

            He glances down to see his lord sprawled on the forest floor, hands pressed to the deep red wounds on his thigh. Reek blinks, uncomprehending. This is not the Ramsay he knows, his lord had taken pain that would have made any other man pass out with barely a grimace. Yet this had left him helpless.

            _I could run._ Reek thought, feeling hopeful for the first time in months. _With any luck the bastard will bleed out and even if he doesn’t he won’t be able to follow me. By the time anyone finds him I’ll be far away. I could do it._

            And run where? There was nowhere he could run. He doubted that anyone he came across would show him any more kindness than Ramsay had. At least Ramsay could be kind when it suited him. With Ramsay there were sometimes gentle pats on the head or a warm spot by the fire. Sometimes he would whisper sweet things in Reek’s ear during their coupling, hands ghosting over bruises and scars with almost unbearable tenderness.

            Reek felt the person he used to be tugging him towards the woods, towards freedom and away from the constant fear and pain that came with Ramsay Bolton.

            _Run!_ The boy shrieked at him. _Run fast and run far. Far, far away from this place. He doesn’t love you, he can never love you. He hurts you; he’s taken your fingers, your teeth, your cock, even your name. He is a monster._

Reek glanced once more at his bleeding master then down at his mangled hands, his reed thin arms, the numerous scars criss-crossed over his skin. He didn’t need a mirror to know that his eyes were sunken and mouth deformed from lack of teeth.

            _So am I._ He thought. His mind made up he strode to his master and carefully, as though approaching a wounded animal, knelt beside him in the snow.  

 

           

 

           

           


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ramsay is super duper confused by this development.

            “Well this is ironic.” Ramsay said dryly, gritting his teeth against the pain. “Me lying bleeding on the ground and you above me. What are you waiting for?” With shaking hands Reek reached out to where his master’s hand was pressed against his side. Blood seeped through his fingers staining the snow below him red.

            “Let me see.” Reek said, gently pulling Ramsay’s hand away. The fallen man hissed as the cold air hit the wound, colorless eyes screwed shut. Reek frowned, contemplating the injury. It was deep but it didn’t seem as though any major arteries had been nicked. He would live. Well, as long as they were able to get back to Dreadfort to get the wound patched up.

            “Can you stand?” Ramsay scowled.

            “What, won’t hit a man when he’s down? How noble.”

            “We need to get back before night fall.” Reek said, trying to get his master on his feet. “And I don’t think I can carry you very far.”

            “You couldn’t carry a sack of flour.” Ramsay snapped, but there was an edge of pain in his voice, not cruelty. Somehow they managed to struggle to Reek’s horse that sat waiting obediently where they had stopped. Ramsay’s horse, spooked by the yelling, had run off.

            _Great._ Reek thought bitterly. The old nag didn’t seem like it could hold two grown men. Not that Reek weighed very much.

            “Can you ride?” He inquired, staring at the horse with dread.

            “What are you trying to do?” Ramsay asked, pausing to take a breath. “If you’re going to go, go. You’ll have a good head start, I doubt I’ll be up for a hunt any time soon.”

            “I’m not leaving my lord.” Reek said, not meeting Ramsay’s eyes. “Here get up.” They somehow managed to both get on the horse, although it took several minuets and left both of them gasping for breath.

            “What do you want of me?” Ramsay asked, breathing ragged and pained. “To let you go? To give you gold? Lands? Titles? I assure you, my father will not offer a reward for my safe return.”

            “I ask nothing of you my lord.” Reek said shortly, nudging the old horse forward.

            “Everything comes at a price.” Ramsay said unimpressed.

            “Look at me.” Reek said as they walked slowly forward. “I have nothing left to bargain for. You can’t give me back what I really want.”

            For a while they rode in silence. Reek heard how his lord exhaled painfully every time they walked over uneven ground. He could feel blood seep through Ramsay’s clothes onto his own.

            _That will need cleaning up._ He thought automatically. The lesson had been drilled into his mind by now. Many months ago, after Ramsay whipped him he lay in a pool of his own blood shaking and sobbing.

            “Clean it up.” Ramsay said, before striding out of the room. Shakily Reek pulled himself to his hands and knees and began to wipe away the stain. It wouldn’t do to dirty the floors with his blood. The same thing happened a few days later when Reek chocked with Ramsay’s cock in his mouth and vomited all over the floor.

            “Clean it up.” Ramsay had snapped, slapping across the face. It had become a habit now. Whenever Ramsay fucked him all he could focus on was the cum all over his clothes. That would have to be cleaned up. Not Reek’s own rags, oh no, but gods forbid Ramsay get any filth on his fine clothes.

            “Do you think I will spare you after this?” Ramsay asked, breaking the long silence. “That I will owe you a debt and go easy on you? Leave me and go. If you stay you do realize what you’d be going back to don’t you?”

            “I know.” Reek said, voice shaking slightly at the memories of flaying and beating. The other man hesitated, clearly confused.

            “Are you really that broken?” Ramsay asked, voice softer than usual.

            “There’s nothing for me out there.” Reek said bluntly. “You’re the only one I have left.”

            “Then you’re an idiot.” Ramsay said, leaning on his servant’s back for support.

            “Maybe.” Reek agreed, urging his horse to keep walking towards the dark foreboding walls of Dreadfort.

 

It was dark by the time they reached the fort. Snow had begun to fall heavily around them, cloaking the two men in white. Ramsay’s breathing had gotten slower in the last half hour or so and he leaned more heavily on Reek.  
“Don’t fall asleep my lord.” Reek called over his shoulder. “We’ll be there soon. Just a little while longer and you’ll he sleeping in your own bed beside the fire. You need to hang on for just a little more.” He knew that if Ramsay closed his eyes now he would never open them again. He was surprised at how much the prospect frightened him. Ramsay said nothing, only curled closer to him. And so Reek talked. He talked about anything that came into his mind, memories of Winterfell, the memories of another man. He told stories that old Nan had told him when he was a child, stories of giants, wizards, and brave heroes. He talked until his voice grew horse and then he whispered. Ramsay never interrupted, never so much as groaned but he didn’t sleep, although his eyelids drooped and his mouth tightened with pain. When at last they reached their destination Reek’s words had run out along with a good deal of Ramsay’s blood.  
As if in a dream Reek watched me hurry out to meet them, hoisting Ramsay up and carrying him indoors. He felt blows rain down on him, harsh words spat in his face. He closed his eyes, curling into himself and drifted. When he came back to himself he was lying beaten and bloody in the snow, alone. He looked up at the lights of Dreadfort twinkling brightly only a few feet away. Not knowing what else to do, he forced himself to his feet, limped to the kennels and feel asleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so smutty smutty may be in the next question. If anyone has any thoughts or suggestions let me know!


	3. Tenderness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay here is the smut. If this seems REEEEEAAAALLLY OC never fear it will be resolved. In the mean time Reek is incredibly confused and Ramsay is being difficult.

A kick in the ribs woke Reek from his slumber. He was too tired to even cry out. He merely blinked hazily, looking up at the source of his pain.

            “You’re wanted.” A man, he couldn’t tell which one in the near darkness, called.

            _Of course._ Reek thought heart sinking. Ramsay wouldn’t have liked being so helpless. He would want to remind himself that he was in charge. And as usual Reek’s screams served as a reminder.

            Bracing himself, the thin man rose from the straw and slowly walked towards the stone building. The cold hair hit him like a fist, blowing ice and snow every which way. Reluctantly Reek wrapped his thin arms around his chest and waded through the snow banks towards a fate he could only guess.

            _I could have run._ He thought miserably, tears freezing on his face. _Slit my wrists with Ramsay’s knife, he wouldn’t have been able to stop me. Why? Why did I come back?_

 _You know why._ Another voice whispered softly. All to soon he reached the castle, walking robotically up the stairs and pausing at Ramsay’s bedroom door.

            “Come in.” A voice called, a familiar voice.

            _So he did live._ Reek thought, legs carrying him inside the chamber and closing the door. Ramsay sat propped up in bed, a thick white bandage wound around his chest but other then that he seemed all right. He regarded his servant, an unreadable expression in his eyes.

            “Come here.” Reek wordlessly obeyed, what else could he do? He had danced this dance before. As he approached he shrugged of his shirt and began to unfasten his trousers with shaking hands.

            “Stop.” Reek hesitated, daring to look up at his master. He hadn’t so much as moved from where he lay; usually by this point he had Reek bent over the bed or really any available surface.

            “You can be incredibly slow sometimes do you know that?” Lord Ramsay said voice dark with annoyance.

            “Yes my lord. I’m sorry my lord.”

            “I mean really. Even for you, you’ve been exceptionally stupid.”

            “My lord I don’t understand. What has caused-?”

            “Why are you here?” Reek blinked.

            “Because you sent for me my lord.” He said uncertainly, unsure if this was some kind of game. “I want only to obey you.”

            “Why are you still at Dreadfort?” Ramsay demanded. “Why didn’t you run when you had the chance you dull thing? Are you such a masochist that you’d come back willingly. What is the matter with you?”

            “So you would have wanted me to run?” Reek asked, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

            “You don’t get it!” Ramsay exploded, cheeks flushed in anger. “Fuck what I want. You know perfectly well what I want. What do you want?”

            “My lord?”

            “Don’t tell me you’re happy here.  We can both see through those lies. You cannot like sleeping in kennels, crawling on the floor, being fucked like a whore. I’ve seen it in your face. I can break you, I can take everything from you but I cannot make you like it. Tell me why Reek!”

            “I don’t know master.” Reek said softly, slightly panicked by the angry words. “I’m sorry.” He could have sworn he heard Ramsay growl. Before he could react the taller man had climbed out of bed, crossed the room in a few long strides and slammed his servant into the wall, hands on either side of his head. A high-pitched whine echoed from Reek’s mouth. He knew this Ramsay. It came with knives and whips and all manner of unbearable things. He tensed waiting for pain, for Ramsay to snap and hit him. Instead he felt a mouth pressed roughly against his.

            “You-are-so-stupid!” Ramsay hissed between violent kisses. Reek felt his eyes widen in disbelief. He was too shocked to do much other then stand there like a statue. In the next minute he was thrown to the bed and Ramsay stood over him.

            _So it was this after all._ The smaller man thought. Slowly, trying with all his might not to cry he turned over and lifted himself onto his hands and knees. Ramsay quickly flipped him back over so they were eye to eye. Reek reached for his lord’s trousers instead, only to have his hand swatted away (unusually lightly he noticed.)

            “My lord please-.” He asked, beyond confused. Ramsay cut him off, pressing a strangely soft his to his pet’s open mouth. He kissed Reek like a lover, more gently then Reek had ever thought he was capable of.

            “You are so dim.” Ramsay continued, trailing his hands along his captor’s body, pressing his mouth to every single injury. “Stupider then any dog.” A mouth wrapped around Reek’s nipple sucking ever so lightly, hands unlacing his trousers and pulling them down. Reek threw his head back, mouth open in a silent moan. This was not a Ramsay he knew. He spoke Ramsay’s words, he stared up at Reek with Ramsay’s grey eyes, but he touched his prisoner as though he were made of gold and kissed him like he was the most precious thing in the world.

            Reek couldn’t help himself; he felt tears spring to his eyes as Ramsay tenderly traced the misshaped scars between his legs, following them with his tongue. When at long last he entered him Ramsay kissed the tears from his cheeks, holding Reek to him as though he might disappear. He continued to mutter about Reek being stupid but his voice didn’t sound right. It sounded broken. He thrust forward agonizingly slowly, eyes never leaving Reek’s face. The smaller man could not look away yet he could not believe what he was seeing. Yet with every thrust he could see it was Ramsay fucking him, knew it was Ramsay who kissed him with urgency. He could feel it was Ramsay’s hand that rubbed over his scars as they moved together, helping him fly higher and higher until he toppled over the edge, crying out and clutching Ramsay too him like a drowning man.

            “My Reek.” Ramsay said hoarsely, kissing the tired man’s forehead. “My sweet, stupid Reek.”

           

 

 

           

           

           

 

           

           


	4. The Bastard of Bolton

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow um thanks so much for all the nice feedback! :) This is short but here ya go my lovelies!

            On the surface little had changed but Reek knew that something was out of the ordinary with Ramsay. It was a casual toss of a chicken leg in his direction; a word of praise, a light hand that struck him, and Reek could feel the restraint in it.

            _Why?_ He wondered, completely mystified by the change. Ramsay had never been one to hold back, not unless he was playing some sort of game. In the beginning Reek was constantly on edge, waiting for the cruel trick to finally be revealed. Yet when the days turned to weeks he was forced to conclude that this change might be permanent. He didn’t dare hope for that. Since the day in the woods he hadn’t lost a finger, he ate fairly regularly, and he had moved out of the kennels in favor of Ramsay’s quarters.  His lord had commanded it so Reek found himself sleeping on plush rugs instead of cold stone, sometimes even in bed alongside Ramsay. There was still the occasional harsh word or slap for not performing a task fast enough but the ever-present fear that had haunted him since he arrived at Dreadfort had lessened. For the first time Reek felt not happy, not exactly, but secure. Maybe, just maybe this meant the end of something, maybe the pain and despair were finished for good. He hardly dared to let himself believe it but sometimes when Ramsay looked at him a certain way or kissed him or whispered his name like a prayer when they lay together Reek couldn’t help thinking it might be true.

 

            “What are you planning with your creature now?” Roose Bolton asked, expressionless grey eyes boring into Ramsay’s.

            “Nothing you would be interested in.” The younger man responded, voice tinged with bitterness. “Do not concern yourself with it.”

            “He follows you everywhere you go.” Roose pressed. “He eats at your feet and sleeps in your bed. There are rumors.”

            “What do you care about rumors?” Ramsay said, fists clenched tightly under the table.

            “I care when they concern my son.” The older man snapped. “And the manner of people he takes to his bed.”

            “Now I am your son?” Ramsay demanded. “How convenient that I am a bastard when I disappoint you yet become your son when it pleases you.”

            “And yet you act like a highborn lord only when you profit from it but refuse to behave in a manner befitting one.”

            “What do you care who I fuck?” Ramsay said, teeth grit in anger. “The king slayer fucks his own sister and their bastard sits on the throne.”

            “You are not a king.” Roose said coldly. “You would do well to remember that.” Ramsay scowled but managed to keep his mouth shut.

            “That creature is no more suited to your bed then you are to a throne.” Lord Bolton continued. “Send him back where he belongs or be rid of him. Put the poor beast out of his misery.”

            “You cannot tell me to kill him.” Ramsay said, voice dark and promising danger. “He is mine.”

            “Your tongue is yours yet I can easily take that from you as well.” Roose said, eyes as cold and unyielding as stone.

 

           

           

           

           

 

           

           


	5. Monster

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning! Non-con in this chapter (sorry) I promise this is not the end but this seemed like the direction that seemed the most in character. As always feedback is welcome. Enjoy!

           Reek looks up expectantly as the door opens and his master walks in. He couldn’t help but smile. For the last few days the days had passed similarly; Ramsay would go off the deal with business of some sort, leaving Reek to complete a few simple tasks while he was gone. When he returned it would mean food, sometimes wine, and…other things. It was slightly embarrassing how much Reek had grown to look forward to the other things.

            Reek was just remembering that certain thing Ramsay could do with his tongue when a fist caught him right in the jaw, knocking him to the ground. He yelped in pain, feeling blood start to dribble from his mouth.

            “M’lord what-?”

            “Don’t you fucking talk!” The taller man said, dragging Reek to his knees by his hair. They were close enough that Reek could smell the alcohol on his breath.

            _Oh no!_ Reek though, heart pounding fearfully in his chest. _This is very bad._ While wine may have calmed some men down it only made Ramsay more volatile. The bastard turned to torture for pleasure but he turned to alcohol for pain. Ramsay could be scary when he was angry; terrifying when he was bored, but when he was in pain he truly turned into a monster.

            “My lord please I don’t understand-.”

            “Hands and knees. Now.” Reek meekly complied, shaking like a leaf. Before he could comprehend what was happening a sharp crack echoed through the room followed by a horrible, familiar pain across his back. He shrieked in agony, collapsing to the floor. He managed to look behind him to see Ramsay standing over him, a belt folded in his hand.

            “Ramsay please-.”

            _Crack!_

“Who am I?”

            “My lord.”

            _Crack._

“Guess again.”

            “Ramsay Bolton, lord Bolton’s heir.”

            _Crack._

“You’re a dog!” Ramsay said, face red with anger. “A timid little bitch or ruts against anything with a cock. Filthy little whore.” Reek whimpered, curling in on himself in an attempt to avoid the blows. This wasn’t happening, where was his kind, merciful lord? He tried to remember what he could have done to anger Ramsay so but try as he might he wasn’t able to recall a thing.

            “And what is a bitch’s owner called?”

            “M-master.”

            _Crack!_

“Again!”

            “Master s-stop please.”

            “If you’re so eager for my cock then I can’t very well deny you.” In the next moment Ramsay ripped off his captors clothes, pushing him down to the floor.

            “No! Master don’t-.”

            “You’re mine do you understand? I can do anything I want to you, anything and nobody is going to stop me.” Reek hung his head, tears streaming down his face. And he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Ramsay was right.

            Ramsay took him like a bitch and Reek could feel the anger in it. When it was over the smaller man lay crumpled on the floor, blood and cum leaking out of him, sobs wracking his thin frame. He waited for more pain but none came. Looking up through a haze of tears he saw Ramsay standing over him, an expression he had never seen before on his face. Without saying a word he turned and left the room, slamming the door behind him.

            Confused and terrified Reek struggled to his knees, taking in the mess around him.

            _That will need cleaning up._ Wincing in pain he grabbed hold of a rag and jug of water and scrubbed the floor as best as he was able. Then, not knowing what else to do, he curled up in front of the fire and waited for Ramsay to return. When at last he fell asleep he dreamed of summer time.


	6. Apologize

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ramsay doing his best to apologize for the other night but not really succeeding. I'm pretty sure this will have one or two chapters left but I'm wrestling between giving this a realistic ending and giving it one that won't make me cry. So what do you guys think?

             When he woke the next morning a blanket had been draped over him and a steaming bowl of gruel had been set down a little ways away. Ramsay was nowhere to be seen. Moving mechanically, Reek managed to sit up and spooned some of the food into his mouth. There was even a bit of honey in it but it still tasted like ashes.

            When he had finished he picked up a broom and began cleaning up the room, mind a million miles away. When Ramsay finally entered the room a few minuets later his servant didn’t even look at him. Normally he would have been beaten for such insolence instead Ramsay just collapsed in a chair by the fire and watched him with those icy grey eyes.

            The day continued in silence; Reek saw to his chores, despite the fact that his body still felt like it was on fire when he tried to move. This scared him, the obvious uncertainty. Ramsay didn’t hurt him that day; he didn’t so much as raise his voice. He awkwardly pushed food towards his pet, real food not just scraps and told him to stop and rest when it was obvious the pain was getting to be too much. At one point he had reached out to Reek but when the smaller man flinched away he let his hand drop. If Reek didn’t know better, he would have thought his master was trying to apologize. It was a ridiculous notion; hadn’t Ramsay said himself just the other night that Reek belong to him, was a bitch for him to do with as he pleased. Why would he apologize?

            When night fell Reek dragged himself into a corner of the room to sleep but a hand on his shoulder stopped him.

            “Stay.” Ramsay said and for once it seemed like more of a request then a demand. Still, Reek didn’t dare refuse. The bed was warm and felt like heaven to his aching body but his heart still beat fearfully knowing that Ramsay lay so close. Hesitantly his lord wrapped an arm around his servant’s waist, holding him gently to his chest. Reek stiffened at the contact, every nerve in his body screaming for him to pull away. Instead he lay still, pretending his was made of stone, pretending the gentle touch didn’t cut through him like a knife. After a while, when he thought Ramsay was asleep, he sobbed into his pillow, praying to all the gods that his master wouldn’t hear him. Behind him Ramsay lay awake, wanting desperately to do something but knowing full well that there wasn’t a thing in the world he could do.

           


	7. Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeeeyyyyy! Two chapters in a day. After this there will be two more chapters (probably) and if there's enough interest I may do a sequel. The ending will be fairly fluffy, well as fluffy as these two can be anyways so don't be sad. I love you all so much you have no idea!

            “Pet?” Reek looked up at his master meekly from his spot scrubbing the floor clean. Ramsay stood frowning at a plate of untouched food lying by the fire.

            “Why aren’t you eating?”

            _Because every time I chew I can feel my teeth ache. The teeth YOU broke._

“I’m not hungry my lord.”

            “You know how I feel about lying.” Ramsay said, squatting beside him. “You’ve barely touched your food in two days. You must be hungry.”

            _What do you care?_

“Truly my lord I am alright.” Ramsay’s brow furrowed and he opened his mouth as if to argue.

            _Oh no! He had made his master angry. When his master was angry it meant pain. He deserved it, Ramsay had been so kind to him these past few days and he’d been inconsiderate. He really was nothing more than a dog._

Quickly, using one of the few methods he knew could calm Ramsay’s temper, Reek scrambled forward and shakily began to undo the laces of his lord’s trousers.

            _“If you’re so eager for my cock then I can’t very well deny you.”_

            “Reek-.” Ramsay began, reaching a hand out to keep his prisoner still. For once Reek did the unthinkable and ignored his master. He managed to fully undo the bindings and lick a log line down the exposed flesh. He didn’t want the belt again, he couldn’t take it. He couldn’t bear to have Ramsay split him open again; he had only just started to walk without limping. This terrified him, made him want to vomit, to hide in a corner and run far away. But it wasn’t pain.

            _“You’re mine do you understand? I can do anything I want to you, anything and nobody is going to stop me.”_

            “Reek!” Reek blinked hazily, gasping for breath. Ramsay was clasping his head firmly, preventing him from moving. When had that happened?

            “Reek look at me. I need you to breath.” Reek noticed that he had lost all control over his breathing. He was breathing quickly and seemed unable to stop. He felt himself growing dizzy, unable to get enough oxygen.

            “You want to be good don’t you? You want to obey me? Then breath! You’re all right, everything’s all right. Breath damn you!” Very slowly Reek began to regain some control although tears and sweat ran down his face in earnest.

            “P-please master, I’m sorry. Let me try again, I’ll be good I promise. Please.”

            “Shhh you’re not in trouble, you didn’t do anything wrong. Calm down pet.”

            _Kill me. Please gods just kill me._

            “Reek?” Ramsay said, gently tilting his captive’s head up so they looked eye to eye. “Do you love me?” There was a kind of desperation in the question, one Reek found very odd. Why was Ramsay asking him this, what was he trying to do?

            _How can I?_ He thought miserably. _You’ve taken everything from me, everything I ever was. I’m nothing now, nothing but a little bitch for you to fuck when you’re bored. I’m a freak. I’m nothing at all._ Yet he could see in Ramsay’s eyes the answer he wanted, no, needed to hear.

            “Of course my lord.” He whispered, the words unconvincing even to him. Something shifted in Ramsay’s eyes and Reek couldn’t help thinking that he looked lost.

            “Then kiss me.” The taller man said, voice shaking. And Reek did, kissed him with everything he had. He felt his soul float away from his body and look down at the scene from above. It was another man that wrapped his arms around his lord, who lay down willingly on the bed. When Ramsay fucked him slowly and tenderly he cried out, fingernails digging into his back. He didn’t come back to himself until much later when the fire had died down and Ramsay lay beside him; sweat cooling on their skin.

            “Why didn’t you run?” His master asked softly, brokenly. Reek only squeezed his eyes shut and cried.

 

           

           

 

           

           


	8. Free

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay bring on the tears. I could end it here but I'm a total sucker for fluff so I'm probably going to add a final fluffy chapter. Any ideas about what Reek's new name should be?

           “Reek? Come on you need to get up.” Reek half-opened one eye, still more asleep than awake. It was still dark outside though for some reason Ramsay was up and getting dressed. Groaning softly, Reek rolled onto his side, hoping to fall back asleep.

            “None of that.” Ramsay chided him and in the next minuet the blankets covering him were ripped away, exposing his naked flesh to the cold morning air. Reek yelped indignantly, fully awake now.

            “Here.” Ramsay said, tossing some clothes at his captive. “Put these on, quickly now.” Reek obeyed, too disoriented to question the strange request. In a haze, the two men dressed and snuck down to the stable yard. Ramsay draped a cloak around his prisoner’s shaking shoulders and set to work saddling a horse. Reek looked around in confusion. All the lights of the fort were dark, not a soul was awake except for the two of them. Even the dogs lay sleeping in their kennels a little ways off.

            “Come here.” Ramsay called, beckoning to Reek. In one swift movement he lifted his smaller companion up onto the saddle, strapping several bags to the horse’s back.

            “There’s food and water enough in there for two weeks.” The taller man said, not looking up from his work. “Ride towards that mountain range there and don’t stop until you reach a river. Follow it all the way up until you reach the source. After three days or so you’ll come across a body of water. There’s a cottage on the far side of the lake hidden by trees. You’ll have everything you’ll need in there, firewood, bedding, bandages; you’ll find a box of coins under the loose floorboard. If you have need for anything there’s a small village a little ways away, farmers and shepherds mostly. They won’t bother you.” Reek looked at his master, mouth open in disbelief.

            “My lord I do not understand.”

            “I will tell my father I killed you. He won’t question it. No one will look for you. You can live a normal life.”

            _I can never live a normal life._ Reek thought, still too shocked to truly process what was going on.

            “My lord I only want to serve you. I just want to stay and be your Reek.”

            “I’m letting you go you idiot!” Ramsay snapped. “Go now, you’ll be miles away by the time the sun rises.”

            “Why are you doing this?” Reek asked, trying desperately to meet his master’s eyes.

            “What do you mean why?” Ramsay demanded. “I’m ordering you to go. So go!” Reek had the unnerving feeling that this was the closest thing to an apology that Ramsay Bolton was capable of admitting. He couldn’t take back the things he had done; he couldn’t take back his actions. But he could do this.

            “You’re not coming?” Reek asked tentatively.

            “No.” Ramsay said shortly. “Take another name, any name that you’d like. Start again. Just go.” A million words came to Reek’s mind, countless things he wanted to say. In the end he only reached down and squeezed Ramsay’s hand, the same hand that had whipped him and struck him, the hand that had carded gently through his hair.

            “Go.” Ramsay said, giving the horse a slap across the back, urging it to go. As Dread fort got further and further away the thin man felt Reek break away and float off into the air. He wasn’t Theon anymore; he could never be Theon again. But there was someone else reaching out to him, a new man.

            _Ramsay._ He thought. _It rhymes with free._

           


	9. Taren

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay here it is guys! Not gonna lie I almost cried writing this. This has been an amazing journey and I couldn't be more grateful to all of you. So here you go, the happiest ending I felt was possible. As requested I will write a sequel to this so be on the look out! Thank you all so much and enjoy!

            Time past the way it always did. In the first few days after he had reached the hidden cottage Taren had stared out the window constantly, expecting an army of Bolton men to come riding up to take him back. Slowly, over the course of several weeks the truth began to set it. He was safe. For some unimaginable reason Ramsay had let him escape.

            After several days he decided on the name Taren, a combination of the name he was born with and the name Ramsay gave him. He said it over and over under his breath until he no longer woke up with rhymes on his lips. When people in the village asked his surname he said Snow.

            He cut off much of his matted hair when washing it proved too difficult, yet it continued to grow back white. Over time his eyes lost their sunken look and his thin figure filled out a little. He even got a carpenter in the village to pull out the teeth that were ruined and had new made to replace them. They weren’t terribly comfortable but he could eat comfortably again and his cheeks weren’t so oddly sunken.

            He found work, more as something to do than anything else. Ramsay had left him plenty of money, enough for him to live comfortably on for quite a while but he was restless. Ironically enough, he had found a job caring for the shepherd’s dogs. He couldn’t help smirking slightly at the thought. No doubt Ramsay would have thought it wildly funny if he could see.

            Overall he kept to himself. No one bothered him much and that suited him fine. He had no wish to keep company with women although every now and then one would offer. He tried to tell himself that it was due to the misshapen scar between his legs, but deep down he knew that was not the only reason.

            Forgiveness came gradually, although Taren knew that nothing would ever really excuse the things Ramsay had done. Then again, his actions towards the Starks were equally unforgivable. After a while he found he couldn’t carry the guilt and resentment in his heart anymore. Slowly, it slid away, his desperation to impress his father, his jealousy of Robb, his hatred towards Ramsay. In the end there was only him, for the first time in years really free.

            He wasn’t sure how long it had been since he arrived at the cottage, a year, maybe two, when he began to hear rumors in the village. There had been a siege on Dread fort, headed by Brynden Tully acting to avenge the death of his neice. The Bolton’s stores had been depleted and they stood no chance against the several hundred Tully soldiers. Taren heard that Roose Bolton had been killed, beheaded by Lord Tully himself.

            _And his son?_ Taren wanted to ask. _What happened to Ramsay?_ He thought that hearing news of his former master’s death would leave him feeling relieved but instead a heavy feeling of anxiety settled in the pit of his stomach. Despite everything he didn’t want to see Ramsay die.

            _Even if they didn’t kill him at Dreadfort he won’t get far._ He thought frantically. _Not with those Bolton eyes. They’ll track him down in an instant._ It was stupid, it was illogical. Yet Taren found himself saddling a horse and riding off towards Dreadfort as fast as he could.

            Days past with no sign of the Bolton bastard, though Taren rode miles in all directions. Every night he came home defeated, and every morning he began the search again. No one in all the surrounding villages had seen the man.

            _Please,_ Taren found himself praying, a thing he hadn’t done in a very long time.  _I begged you for death once and you didn’t grant it to me. I ask that you do the same for him. Please don’t let him die._

Two weeks after the attack on Dreadfort Taren stumbled home in the wee hours of the morning, tired and discouraged, to find the door of his cottage open. Cautiously he stepped inside, hand on the handle of his blade. He found himself staring into ghost grey eyes, eyes that hadn’t left his dreams in all this time.

            When he looked closer he wondered how Ramsay had managed to get through the door in the first place. He looked an absolute wreck; dark bruises covered his face and blood pooled around him. He hadn’t made it to a chair, collapsing instead in the center of the floor. For a moment Taren could only stare, mouth open in surprise.

            “Haven’t we played this scene before?” Ramsay rasped, a slight bit of humor in his voice. And what could Taren do? He fell to his knees beside the injured man and hugged him to his chest. For a second Ramsay stiffened, eyes wide with surprise. But after a minuet he seemed to melt into the floor, hands reaching up tentatively to rest on Taren’s shoulders. The white haired man realized, with a bit of shock, that Ramsay was crying, something he had never seen before.

            “Theon…” he said hoarsely. “I am so, so, sorry.” Taren knew he meant it, he knew it didn’t make things right. But when he looked down at Ramsay’s tear stained face he no longer saw a monster, just as he no longer saw one staring back at him in the mirror. Just a man.

            “Taren.” He said, fighting to keep his voice from shaking. “It’s Taren now.”

 


End file.
